


don't cry about what you cannot change

by ghosthunter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: $10 mustache rides, First Time, M/M, h/c, non stop joke hours even during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosthunter/pseuds/ghosthunter
Summary: “Fuck you,” Tyson says, his face half-smashed against Paul’s chest.“Will that make you feel better?” Paul asks.





	don't cry about what you cannot change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [llwyncelyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/llwyncelyn/gifts), [babygotbackstrom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babygotbackstrom/gifts).



> porn gachapon is at it again. thanks to lanie for the beta.

“Pack your shit.”

Paul doesn’t see the look on Tyson’s face until later, after he’s uploaded the video and it’s making the rounds all over Twitter. They’re still out and several drinks in and Tyson is doing a pretty fucking great job of holding it together.

And because Paul isn’t exactly in the business of, like, trying to have real feelings about hockey and shit because getting traded is Just Hockey, Man, and Paul would know - he doesn’t say anything. He just lets Tyson pretend that everything is totally fine and he’s not heartbroken that the team that he’s spent his entire career with just traded him away from all of his teammates and friends and everything he’s known.

It’s not exactly a surprise when he finds Tyson sitting on the patio at the rental house, alone, beer in hand after everyone else has gone to sleep.

“Hey,” Paul says to him, flopping down next to him on the couch, making it creak ominously under their weight. Probably whoever decorated this house hadn’t bought furniture with full grown hockey players in mind. Even if Tyson is an undersized one.

Tyson looks over at him, his eyes big and dark in the dim light cast by the city at night, but he doesn’t say anything. It kind of makes Paul feel shitty, because he was making jokes earlier in the night and Tyson is actually, legitimately upset.

“So,” Paul says, wrapping one of his arms around Tyson and pulling him over. Tyson struggles briefly, then goes limp under Paul’s arm, smashed against him. “I’m sorry you’re upset.”

“Fuck you,” Tyson says, his face half-smashed against Paul’s chest.

“Will that make you feel better?” Paul asks.

Tyson starts struggling again, gets himself out from under Paul’s arm, and he’s glaring at Paul then. Paul feels like, at this point in their friendship, Tyson should know that Paul is terrible at feelings and doesn’t do anything but crack jokes. Tyson should know that Paul doesn’t know how to take anything seriously.

“You know what will make me feel better?” Tyson asks. “You not being a fucking dick about me getting traded, Biz. You think you’re not going to get traded because, you know, you’re setting records and then suddenly it’s like, ha ha, you’re not good enough for us, actually, we don’t want you anymore, and - “

“Tyson,” Paul says. Tyson’s mouth snaps shut and he stares at Paul, breathing hard through his nose. He closes his eyes. “This is hockey. This is what happens. Maybe they didn’t think you were good enough. Maybe they didn’t want you anymore. But that’s fucking hockey.”

“You are not helping,” Tyson says. His teeth are gritted and he closes his eyes.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” Paul says. “I’m retired at 34, Ty. Did you think hockey wasn’t going to chew you up and spit you out?”

“Biz,” Tyson says.

“They just decided they wanted whatever Kadri is offering more than what you’re offering,” Paul continues. “So they decided maybe they don’t need defense and they’re gonna ride EJ and some fuckin’ rookies to maybe missing the playoffs next season, and even if they do make the playoffs, Kadri will get himself suspended and they’ll be like ah, fuck, we should’ve kept Tyson.”

“Biz,” Tyson repeats.

“And you’re gonna be in Toronto playing with - you know, all those fuckin’ dudes everyone’s shitting themselves over because they’re the second coming of Wayne Gretzky or what the fuck ever, so obviously you’re going to be fine and - “

“Paul,” Tyson says, forceful. Paul snaps his mouth shut.

They stare at each other in silence for a moment. The night is a cacophony of noise around them, the sound of someone’s radio playing, cars on the street in one direction and the sound of the ocean in another. They’re paying a lot of money to rent this house on the beach. It was supposed to be a good time.

“I’m not good at making people feel better,” Paul says.

“I noticed,” Tyson says.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Paul finally says.

“I know,” Tyson says, all the fight going out of him. He slumps against Paul again, and Paul wraps an arm around him, cuddling Tyson in close again. They’re quiet for a long while after that, sitting there listening to the noise around them, in the dark, in the quiet.

“Biz,” Tyson says after a while. “Were you serious earlier?”

“About what?” Paul asks him.

“Fucking it better,” Tyson says.

“If you think it’ll make you feel better, I’m down for anything,” Paul tells him.

“Fuck me better,” Tyson says to him.

“Yeah,” Paul says. “If you want.”

“I want,” Tyson says, and shifts until he’s straddling Paul’s thighs, sitting backward on Paul’s lap. Paul absently thinks they may be testing the limits of the lounger as it groans threateningly underneath them. He rests his hands on Tyson’s hips and decides that he won’t think about it unless it breaks and dumps them onto the ground.

Tyson’s kisses are desperate as he leans into Paul and Paul just holds onto him. He’ll let Tyson take whatever he wants for now, make sure that this is actually what Tyson wants. He doesn’t want to be a shitty friend and he doesn’t want this to be something Tyson regrets in the morning or for a long time after.

He just holds onto Tyson until it feels like Tyson is calmer, until his kisses are slower and his body relaxes against Paul’s. Then Paul feels like he can move, slip his hands up underneath the edge of Tyson’s t-shirt, slip them down the back of Tyson’s shorts to grip his ass. This makes Tyson rock forward on Paul’s lap, grinding his hips down, and sucks Paul’s lower lip into his mouth.

It’s sweaty and kind of fucked up doing this on the patio, because sure, there’s a fence but someone could see, and it’s not like they didn’t pay good money for the place and it’s got air-conditioning. Paul’s only got the capacity for so much making out before his dick is hard and he’s honestly fucking bored of it.

“Let’s go inside,” Paul says to him. They’re not the only ones in the house, but it’s not like it’s the first time everyone’s had to hear other people fucking on this vacation. Paul honestly doesn’t give a shit. Tyson might be embarrassed about it when he realizes it in the morning, but for now, he’s easing himself off Paul’s lap and adjusting his dick in his shorts.

Paul gets up as well, and Tyson trails after him as he walks back into the house. Tyson closes the door behind them as quietly as he can, then follows Paul down the hallway to his room. Paul locks the door behind them and strips his shirt off. Tyson stands there, watching him as he’s unbuttoning his shorts and letting them drop to the floor.

“You can still back out,” Paul tells him.

“No,” Tyson says.

“I’m not gonna be pissed at you,” Paul says. “I’m just trying to help you feel better. So if you don’t want to I’m gonna jerk off and go to sleep. Or fuck, I’ll jerk off in the bathroom and we can both sleep in here. Or we can both just jerk off.”

“That’s a lot of jerking off,” Tyson says.

“No, it’s just once - shut up,” Paul says. Tyson cracks a smile then, and Paul tugs the bottom of Tyson’s shirt before letting it go. “Take your fucking clothes off.”

“You have, like - “ Tyson starts, even as he’s stripping out of his shirt and kicking his sneakers off on Paul’s floor so he can drop his shorts. He’s got on teal underwear and there’s a wet spot at the head of his dick that Paul wants to get his mouth on and make bigger. “Stuff,” he finally finishes after a moment, and Paul manages to look back at Tyson’s face to see how much he’s blushing.

“Did you think I’d come on vacation not prepared to fuck?” Paul asks him.

“Man, I don’t know how often you fuck guys,” Tyson says. Paul reaches out and pulls Tyson toward him by hooking a finger in Tyson’s underwear.

“More than you think,” Paul says, dropping his voice low and really putting it on for Tyson, like he would for someone that he’s picking up, and not someone he knows that he’s casually hooking up with. He watches Tyson’s mouth fall open slightly, like that’s not what he was expecting Paul to say.

“Well,” Tyson finally says.

“Well,” Paul says. “What do you _want_ , Ty? Do you want me to suck your dick? Do you want me to fuck you?”

Tyson makes a choked noise.

“Have you ever had a guy fuck you? I know you’ve had one suck your dick,” Paul says. Tyson gives him the wide eyed look he gets on his face when he says something super embarrassing about how hot Gabe Landeskog is.

“Who told you?” Tyson says, his voice faint and sounding a little like he’s going to die.

“Nobody told me, bud,” Paul says. “I played junior hockey too.”

Tyson’s gonna lose his boner from the sheer amount of blood rushing to his face, Paul’s pretty sure. He’s gotta try a different tactic.

“So did you?” Paul asks.

“Did I what?” Tyson asks, sounding desperate to change the subject to anything but talking about whether or not other guys sucked his dick in junior. Paul doesn’t think it’s anything to be embarrassed about. It’s all sex, and Paul’s sucked dick and had his own sucked by other dudes. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t judge.

“Ever have a guy fuck you,” Paul says. Tyson blushes more, but Paul’s slipping one hand into the back of Tyson’s shorts again, blunt fingers pressing into the crack of Tyson’s ass until he jumps forward and presses flush against Paul’s body.

“No,” Tyson admits, and his eyes are closed as he leans against Paul. “Got fingered a couple of times.”

“Did you like it?” Paul asks him, pushing his fingers a little deeper, teasing.

“Yeah,” Tyson says, pushing his hips against Paul’s, grinding up against him.

“Girlfriend?” Paul asks. He’s not going to push a finger in, not dry like this, because he doesn’t want to hurt Tyson, but he likes the way Tyson starts squirming against him.

“Did she ever eat your ass?” Paul asks him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Biz,” Tyson says, and pushes at him until he’s looking at Paul, both eyes open and the fingers on one of Paul’s hands hooked between his ass cheeks. “That’s gross.”

“Grow up, Ty, people eat ass,” Paul says.

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” Tyson says.

“Maybe,” Paul says, and shrugs, pulls his fingers away from Tyson’s ass. Tyson makes a tiny little whimper noise when it happens. “What if you lay down on the bed and I show you a few things?”

“I don’t think I want you to eat my ass,” Tyson says.

“Ty, come on,” Paul says, turning them both until he can push Tyson to sit on the edge of the bed. “That’s NHL level sex. You’re AHL level at most.”

“Fuck you, dude,” Tyson starts.

“No, I’m gonna fuck you,” Paul says, and watches as Tyson’s mouth drops open just a little bit. “But I keep looking at where you already have jizz on your shorts and I wanna put my mouth on you first, so just sit down and shut up.”

Tyson makes the strangled noise again. “Unless that’s not okay,” Paul backpedals.

“No, it’s - it’s okay,” Tyson says.

Paul walks over to the nightstand and grabs the bottle of lube and a condom out of the nightstand drawer where he’s left everything for safekeeping. He comes back to stand in front of Tyson, then pushes Tyson’s knees apart and kneels down in between. Getting down’s a bitch on his knees, but it’s totally going to be worth it.

He runs his hands up Tyson’s thighs, slides his fingers underneath the fabric on Tyson’s legs. He lowers his head to mouth along the ridge of Tyson’s cock through the fabric until he gets to the damp place in the fabric just at the head. That’s where he presses his tongue, where he sucks at the fabric, scraping it across the head of Tyson’s cock underneath his tongue.

“Biz,” Tyson says.

Paul lifts his head up and looks at Tyson. “Yeah, babe?” he asks.

“It just seems like you - like you know what you’re doing,” Tyson says. Paul grins at him.

“I am familiar with the male body, Ty,” Paul tells him, and slides his hands out of the legs of Tyson’s shorts to tug the top down. “Lift your hips up for me just a second.”

Tyson is pretty obedient and lifts his hips so that Paul can slide his underwear down his thighs. Paul leans back, pulls Tyson’s knees back together, tugs them down and off. He leans back up between Tyson’s knees, and looks up at him once more.

“You good?” he asks, and Tyson nods.

“Yeah,” Tyson says.

Paul leans down and puts the head of Tyson’s cock in his mouth. He wraps his hand around the base and lowers his head until his mouth meets his hand. And like, yeah, Paul’s sucked some dick. He’s not the best at it, but he’s not too bad. He’s maybe better at sucking dick than he ever was at playing hockey, in the grand scheme of things.

Tyson seems pretty into it, at least.

He’s not planning on getting Tyson off like this. He’s just planning on keeping Tyson occupied and happy while he gets a couple of fingers in. He keeps Tyson’s cock in his mouth while he works with his hands, gets the lube open and gets three of his fingers coated.

“Lean back,” he says, letting Tyson’s cock pop out of his mouth. “So I can get to you better.”

“Okay,” Tyson says, but he sounds uncertain. He does it, all the same, and Paul guides Tyson’s cock back into his mouth.

Now it’s easier to push a slick fingertip against Tyson, to enjoy the way he gasps and squirms, making Paul chase Tyson’s dick with his mouth as he gets the first finger in. He pushes in until his knuckles meet Tyson’s body, and then he bends his fingers slightly, pulling back off Tyson’s cock so that he can watch Tyson’s reaction, the way he bucks his hips up, the way his hands grip at the sheets, the way his mouth opens up in a gasp.

Paul does good work.

He pushes a second finger in and takes Tyson’s dick back in his mouth, pushing and working to force Tyson to relax around his fingers. This is easier, Paul finds, when he actually is sucking dick on top of it. For some reason Paul can’t quite put his finger on (ha), he can get a guy to loosen up a lot more easily if he’s got a little bit of a distraction.

He gets three fingers deep before Tyson’s squirming and bearing down on his fingers and he’s actually concerned that Tyson might come in his mouth and he’s gonna have to swallow - and Paul hates swallowing, so he’s definitely not gonna do that.

He lifts his head up and pulls his fingers away. Tyson whines at him, and pushes himself up on his elbows.

“Biz,” he says. “Are you really fucking stopping?”

“No, I’m gonna fuck you,” Paul tells him, standing up and pushing his shorts off his hips and letting them drop to the floor. He watches Tyson bite his lip and look at his cock, and not that Paul thinks his cock is anything special, but it’s definitely more than the three fingers he just had in Tyson.

“Oh,” Tyson says, and he blinks a few times like he’s really having to process what Paul just said to him.

“Unless you don’t want me to,” Paul says, even as he’s rolling the condom down his cock, stroking himself slowly.

“No,” Tyson says. “I. I do. I want. You to.”

“Just relax and let it happen,” Paul tells him, pressing the head of his cock against Tyson, not quite pushing in, put putting pressure. He can feel Tyson start to tense up. “I said relax, dude.”

“I’ve never had a cock in my ass before, Biz, I don’t know why you’re saying to relax like that’s something I can just - “

“Ty,” Paul says. “Do you want to not?”

“No, I’m just - Nervous,” Tyson says.

Paul pushes just the head of his cock in, and he’s pretty sure Tyson is panicking because there’s a lot more resistance than he expected. This isn’t exactly what Paul wants, especially since Tyson’s a damn virgin - like, come on. He wants it to be good and Tyson, who was really enjoying some fingers in his ass, is really freaking out about a dick in his ass.

Paul wraps his hand around Tyson’s cock and strokes it. “I’m not flexible enough to suck you off and fuck you at the same time, so I need you to work with me here, Ty,” Paul says to him.

“It’s just. A lot,” Tyson says.

“Come on,” Paul says. “My dick’s not that much bigger than three of my fingers and you were real fuckin’ into that, bud.”

Tyson laughs and throws an arm across his face, then groans. “Oh my God,” he says. “It’s just weird, okay? It’s weird and when you had your fingers you were. Doing something.”

“Yeah, that’s your prostate,” Paul tells him. “Which I’m gonna get to if you let me get my dick in.”

“Oh,” Tyson says. Paul keeps stroking Tyson’s dick until Tyson’s eyes flutter shut and the rest of his body seems to forget to be worried about whatever Paul’s dick is doing. That’s when Paul pushes in slow and steady, all the way to the hilt. Tyson makes a tiny whimper and goes tight around him again.

Paul leans down and kisses him, pushing his tongue into Tyson’s mouth, his hand working Tyson’s cock between them.

“Remember like, two minutes ago when you were about to bust in my mouth?” Paul asks him. “I’m gonna give you the best fuckin’ orgasm you’ve ever had.”

“Okay,” Tyson says, and Paul rocks his hips back, making Tyson whimper underneath him. He’s still too tight, too nervous for Paul to fuck him.

“Come on, Ty,” Paul says, kissing down from Tyson’s mouth to his neck, sucking gently. “You gotta relax for me. You gotta loosen up.”

“Biz,” Tyson says, and Paul jerks him a little faster, kissing along his neck until he feels Tyson’s body start to give under him. He wonders if he could make Tyson come like this, then make him come again while Paul fucks him.

Instead, Paul leans back into him, pushes his dick back into Tyson. If he keeps his mouth on Tyson’s neck, keeps his hand jerking Tyson off, it’s easier. Tyson’s more relaxed, his body resists less the more Paul moves into him. It takes them a couple of minutes to get the rhythm right, but Tyson goes pliant under him, easy, brings his hands up and digs his fingers into Paul’s shoulders as Paul fucks him.

Paul likes the sharp gasp when Tyson comes, and keeps fucking him through it, because hell, Paul’s not there yet and maybe he can get Tyson to come a second time before all of this is over. Tyson’s limp underneath him, sprawled on the mattress, and Paul grunts with his mouth pressed against Tyson’s neck to muffle the noise as he comes with one last hard thrust.

He takes a moment, breathing hard, before he pulls out and ties the condom off, tossing it into the bin under the nightstand.

“You think you can come again?” he asks, wrapping one hand around Tyson’s dick, still hard or hard all over again.

Tyson makes a non-committal noise and Paul starts jerking him off again. Turns out, Tyson does have it in him to come a second time, his fingernails digging into Paul’s wrists. Paul’s going to have little red half-moon marks in his skin when he wakes up in the morning.

Paul leaves Tyson wrecked in his bed and tugs his underwear on, heading into the hall and down to the communal bathroom to grab a cloth to clean them up. He wouldn’t be exactly embarrassed if any of their friends saw him with Tyson’s come smeared across his stomach, but it wouldn’t be his favorite thing.

He gets them both cleaned up and tucked into bed and wraps an arm around Tyson.

“Fucked it better?” he asks. Tyson snorts and kicks him in the shin for lack of any better retaliation.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tyson says. “I liked you better when you had a dick in your mouth and couldn’t talk.”

“Oh, that’s what all the boys say,” Paul says, and laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> on twitter @notedgoon


End file.
